the irony of holidays.
just a different kind of busy.


this way forever?
i dont want it.


better finish my mockingbird and move on.
literarily uninspiring.
doesnt come in handy when i choke for words.


lean not on Man.
for we were made to fail each other.


i yell and tell it that its not my friend
i tear it down i tear it down
and then its born again.

perfection at 10:04 PM